


lose yourself

by ClementineKitten



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: AU, Gen, and sdr2's for that matter, i just thought this idea was cool pay me no mind, major spoilers for v3 endgame, or as I like to call it, pretty much not canon compliant, so i left it p ambiguous, the 'sdr2 au', very very loosely tied to canon, virtual reality au, why do hinata and souda call everyone kid: the game the movie the book, youd have to overlook a lot of facts for this to even be possible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 19:46:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13771227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClementineKitten/pseuds/ClementineKitten
Summary: "Someone help me!"Shuichi Saihara wakes up.





	lose yourself

It was like the world shattered.

Pieces of bright white light fell together and apart, colours diverged at all angles and burnt themselves into your retinas. Pain flashed through you, a sick and nauseating pain that wrapped itself around you and settled inside of you like sediment.

A jolt of electricity rips you apart. You feel like you are being torn like paper, but you can’t break. You want to break so badly, want to rip in half, and get it over with, because this constant and sharp pain is torture.

_I can’t see anything. What happened? Where am I?_

Another shock, like glass being ripped through your skin, but you feel no warmth or release of blood. Just the agonizing pain, your skin and body so tired, crying out for mercy, but the glass continues to dig itself into you, embedding its sharp fragments under the surface.

Your skin is poked and prodded, pulled from your bones. Waves of anguish hit you, pressing into your chest. You can’t breathe- you don’t even know if you’re supposed to, but the pressure makes you try and gasp for whatever air you can, lungs collapsing in on themselves.

You feel like you’re dying.

“Someone help me!”

Shuichi Saihara wakes up.

His eyes shoot open, and he feels a searing pain tear through him, like he imagines it would feel like to be struck by lightning. All around him is dark. Pitch blackness surrounds him, and the air is stuffy, stale, and warm. 

He reaches his hand up, and his fingertips graze a glassy surface. He presses the hand to whatever is encasing him, and starts to yell.

“Someone help! Please!” He’s completely undignified as his throat is ripped raw. He feels like he hasn’t spoken in several days, and the inside of his mouth is devoid of all moisture. “Please!” he pleads as he bangs on the lid.

What happened to him?

Where was he?

Kiibo had begun to destroy the school, and he, Yumeno, and Harukawa all made a break for it and sheltered together. At some point, he didn’t remember when, everything went black. His memories are fuzzy, and just trying to recall what led to this makes his headache.

After a few moments, when his dry throat is completely shot, he stops yelling. Quiet envelopes him for a moment, before he hears voices. He strains his ears to listen and hears a voice that sounds male.

“Another one?” The intonation leads Saihara to believe that it’s a question rather than a statement.

The next voice is closer to Saihara, and also sounds male. “Must be one of the last ones.” They raise their voice. “Hey, where are you?” 

“Here,” Saihara says weakly, pounding on the top of his enclosure. Footsteps come near him, and then…

The lid slides open and light pours into the pod. Saihara recoils back into the metal bottom of his cage. As his eyes adjust to the brightness, he bats his eyelashes and looks up at the person, who has extended their hand to him.

“Here. Get up.” With a shaky hand, Saihara slowly reaches up. He can’t stop trembling as he’s seized by the other person and pulled to his feet. His stomach roils and he feels numb, his blood flow too slow to get down to his legs in time. He stumbles slightly, and the person in front of his grabs his arms to steady him.

“Easy now,” the person says. Saihara lifts his head to make eye-contact and sees the angular face of a man, dressed in a blazer, with two different coloured eyes.

He looks different, older, but he definitely…

“I know you,” Saihara says hollowly. The man tips his head to the side.

“Uh, I think you’re confused.” The man helps Saihara out of his pod. The boy is unsteady on his feet and rocks back and forth on his heels.

“No,” Saihara objects, his voice quiet. “Shirogane-san.” The name of the girl is all he can muster, but just having the words pass his lips causes a surge of anger to thrum through him. His chest burns.

“Shirogane? You know her? She just woke up,” the man tells him. Saihara’s eyes fly open.

“She… She should be dead.” His words are concise and to the point. “You’re her. It’s you. She looked exactly like you.”

“Uh… Huh.” The man quirks an eyebrow. “Look, kid, I think you’re confused. I was the same way when I woke up.” Saihara frowns.

“You’re not real,” he mumbles.

“Excuse me?” The man gives Saihara a perplexed look. Saihara looks down at his hands. His fingers tremble under his gaze.

“Shirogane-san said that you weren’t real,” he adds. The man looks at him oddly, frowning slightly. Then he turns away from him. 

“Hey! Souda!” His words are harsh and sharp, splitting the quiet air like a knife. Saihara winces as his ears take the damage.

Another person comes into the room, dressed more casually than the man, in a dress shirt with no tie. His hair is a bright pink colour. “What’s up, Hinata?” the man- Souda -asks. Then his eyes shift to Saihara.

“Yo, is this the last one?” he asks. The man gripping Saihara, apparently named ‘Hinata,’ nods.

“He’s saying some of the same things that Yumeno and Harukawa were,” he explains. Their names send a stab of worry through Saihara. 

“Yumeno-san and Harukawa-san! Are they alright?” The words rush out of his mouth like water. Souda purses his lips.

“They’re fine, just confused like you.” From somewhere, a pocket or something, Souda produces a water bottle and hands it to Saihara. “Drink this,” he orders.

Saihara struggles to pop off the cap, but as soon as he does, he presses it to his lips. Cool relief floods him, and he’s never tasted anything more delicious than that water. He drinks half the bottle in a few seconds, then draws a hand across his lips.

“Where’s Shirogane-san?” he says, his voice a bit stronger with the water lubricating his throat. “What happened to Junko Enoshima-san?”

“Enoshima…” Hinata’s voice trails off. Souda musses up Saihara’s hair, to which he flinches.

“Junko Enoshima’s dead, kid,” he says flatly. Saihara’s eyes widen.

“I- I know that. But she’s not real.” Saihara stares at the water bottle in his hands, crushing the plastic between his finger tips.

Souda scratches the back of his neck. “I can assure you she is, kid.”

“No, she’s not,” Saihara replies stubbornly. “That’s what Shirogane-san said. And neither of you are real, either.”

Hinata and Souda exchange a look. “This Shirogane-san… She hasn’t said a word to any of us since she woke up.” Hinata runs a hand through his hair. 

“She’s the mastermind,” Saihara mumbles. _Wake up? Shirogane-san is dead._ Hinata’s eyes widen, but other than that, his face doesn’t change expression. Souda frowns. “She killed Amami-kun. And she lied about it.”

“Amami… He’s the one Akamatsu keeps apologizing to,” Hinata says quietly, as if trying to recall their names. Saihara’s head perks up immediately, a feeling of hope and dread mingling in his stomach.

“Akamastu-san!” he yells, his voice shaky. “What are you talking about? She’s dead! Shirogane-san… Shirogane-san executed her… On false charges…” Tears choke Saihara as he struggles to explain.

“The mastermind broke their own rules, huh?” Hinata asks. Saihara nods miserably. “Hm… This might be hard to explain, Saihara, but none of your friends are dead.”

“How do you know my name?” Saihara demands. “And what do you mean? Akamatsu-san… Kaito… I saw them get executed with my own eyes.” He shudders at the memory, squeezing his eyes shut to try and block of thoughts of Akamatsu’s limp, lifeless body and Momota’s blood-soaked one.

“Well, um, it’s hard to explain,” Souda mumbles unhelpfully. “Your friends aren’t actually dead. You saw them die, but that wasn’t real.” Saihara balks, his muscles tensing.

“What are you saying?!” he screams. His voice splits the air, and Hinata and Souda wince. The men turn to each other and speak in rapid and hushed words.

“Were the others like this when they woke up?” Souda asks Hinata, sounding confused. Hinata shrugs.

“I mean, that was a long time ago… They were confused, but our circumstances must’ve been quite different from theirs,” Hinata whispers. He eyes Saihara, who looks out of it. “It might be easier just to show him,” he suggests to Souda.

“Are you out of your freakin’ mind?! That’ll totally break the poor kid!” Souda objects. Hinata offers a simple shrug- it’s something he seems to do a lot.

“It’s what happened to us,” he murmurs flatly. Souda presses his lips into a flat line as Saihara’s head aches, his mind trying to make sense of whatever was happening to him. Memories fall together, but they’re fuzzy, and any attempt to try and focus on one just sends a stab of agony through his brain.

“Alright,” Souda says feebly, not looking too happy.

“Can you go get Koizumi? The other three are in her care,” Hinata asks. Souda nods and turns to leave, then pauses.

“Other _three?_ ” he says with an inquisitive tone. “What happened to Shirogane?”

Saihara’s entire body tenses at her name. He bites his lip. _Shirogane-san should be dead._ Hinata crosses his arms, looking uncomfortable. “She’s in… intensive care. Under the watchful eye of Tsumiki and Pekoyama.” After speaking, he pauses for a moment. “I’m considering sending in Komaeda to talk to her. I feel like if anyone could understand how her brain works, it’s him.”

Souda throws up a hand. “Do whatever, just make sure he, er, stays safe.” He starts walking away. “Besides, if it’s you, I’m sure he’ll do anything you ask,” he puts in as he exits the room. Hinata watches him go, then turns back to Saihara, who’s still staring at him, wide-eyed, afraid, and shaking.

“Damn, should’ve brought a blanket for you.” Hinata puts a hand on Saihara’s shoulder, to which he recoils slightly into himself. “Alright, kid, this is going to be confusing and hard for you, and we don’t exactly know what’s going on either, but we’re gonna try and get you through this.”

Saihara nods slowly, not being able to find any words to voice his confusion and frustration. He looks up at Hinata, who looked much older than Shirogane’s cosplay- assuming it really was the same person. Hinata’s grip on his shoulder tightens.

“Do you want to talk about the killing game?”

Saihara shuts his eyes tightly, the words sending shivers down his spine and ice through his veins. Flashbacks flicker behind his eyes, scenes of deaths and executions play frame by frame in his mind. He winces, a shudder wracking his frame.

Hinata remains silent. “So…” Saihara finally forces out. “Everyone is… Alive?” Hinata nods, and Saihara frowns. “I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t blame you. I felt the same way when it happened to us,” he murmurs, an air of mystery surrounding his words. Saihara crosses his arms and grips his elbows. 

“But… If that’s true…” He allows himself to be filled with false hope. “Are Akamatsu-san and Kaito… Alive?”

Hinata clucks his tongue. “Akamatsu… And by Kaito, you mean Momota?” Saihara gives a tiny nod. “They’re alive and well. Actually, ‘well’ is questionable. But they’re alive.” The breath catches in Saihara’s throat, like he’s choking on air.

He can’t get rid of the thought of their dead and bloodied bodies. “Can I see them?” he asks in a small voice. Hinata shifts on his feet, looking nervous.

“In a moment,” he murmurs. “We’re just waiting for Koizumi and Souda.”

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, noise fills the room, coming through the tiny gap between the ajar door and the wall. Saihara bristles, skin tingling with goosebumps. He can hear quiet words, but he’s sure he recognizes their voices.

In walks Souda, with a woman Saihara can only assume is Koizumi bringing up the rear. She has red hair pulled into a short ponytail, and she looks tired. She’s reminiscent of one of Shirogane’s costumes. In between the two, however, are three students.

Kiibo, Harukawa, and Yumeno. 

Time slows down. Saihara’s legs move before his thoughts do, and he’s running towards the girls he survived with. His heart is pounding faster than ever, he can’t breathe properly, and he barely registers that Kiibo is there, despite the fact that he should be dead. Saihara’s stomach roils. He shouldn’t be moving like this, but how could he vomit when his friends are just close enough to grasp?

His arms envelop Harukawa and Yumeno, and he pulls them in, wrapping them in a tight embrace. Koizumi looks alarmed and moves towards them, but then stops in her tracks as the two girls wrap their arms around them in return. She smiles wistfully.

“Harukawa-san! Yumeno-san!” he chokes out, his grip on them tightening. He can feel Yumeno’s small body shaking against him, probably from tears, and Harukawa relaxes into him.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” she murmurs. Yumeno presses her face into Saihara’s torso and sobs.

“Saihara… Saihara!” she cries. Her tiny arms tremble around him, and in spite of himself, Saihara smiles at the short girl. He peels himself away from the pair, seemingly having noticed Kiibo standing there, awkwardly. Saihara’s mouth agape, he reaches out to touch the robot’s shoulder. His fingertips brush cool metal and Kiibo gazes at him with an even, slightly confused look in his eyes.

“You’re… Alive.” The words fall from his lips. Kiibo shrugs, looking a bit dejected.

“Barely,” he says weakly. His physical form doesn’t show any damage or wounds, but even so, he carries himself like he’s hanging from a wire, teetering on his feet. “My entire body is in… incredible pain,” he explains vaguely.

Souda’s gaze sparks. “If you died in the simulation, you’re going to experience the pain of your death for a while afterwards.” He runs his hand across Kiibo’s arm, who flinches in return. _Simulation?_ Saihara thinks to himself. Nothing the two men had said to him were making any sense.

“When I woke up,” Koizumi speaks up. “I got really bad migraines for a day or two, and head pain for a while after that.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, wincing as the memory resurfaced. “But I think the circumstances of my death were probably different than his.”

Kiibo clenches and unclenches his fist. “Self-destruction,” he mumbles airily. 

“Oh, yeah, that.” Koizumi puts a finger to her head, as if in thought. “Let’s see… For full-body pain like that… Nidai-kun and Komaeda-kun experienced it, and so did Nana-” The red-haired woman breaks off, and Hinata looks like he stiffens. “Hm…” She continues to speak, as if nothing happened. “They said they were in pain for a week.”

Hinata exhales sharply. “And that purple-haired kid who just woke up said he was crushed as well, and is in a lot of pain,” he says. Harukawa’s gaze flashes.

“Ouma.” She lets out an inhuman sound that is akin to a growl.

“Him, yeah,” Hinata responds. If he senses the hostile air around Harukawa and the disgust dripping from her words as she spits out his name, he ignores it. “Everyone else is in pain, but it seems like they’re managing.”

“Why don’t I feel pain?” Saihara asks bluntly. It’s a stupid question; he should already know the answer.

“Cuz you didn’t die in the sim, probably,” Souda answers. “Well, I remember being lethargic and stuff, but other than that I was fine.” 

“Hm…” Hinata mumbles to himself. He turns to meet the gazes of both Souda and Koizumi. “Should we show them the others? It might… You know…”

Koizumi looks doubtful. “It might hurt their psyche if they’re not ready.”

“I don’t recall us getting a say in the matter. I think we all just woke up and were thrown into a room with the people who killed us,” Souda points out.

“True,” Koizumi reasons. “The first thing I saw when I woke up was Hiyoko-chan hugging me.”

“About the group,” Harukawa interjects softly. “I’d like to see them.” Her eyes downcast, she continues to speak. “If Momota really is alive… I’d like to see him again.” 

Saihara’s heart squeezes as Harukawa staves off her tears. “Me too.” The thought of seeing Momota alive makes his chest fill with hope. “I want to see Kaito, and Akamatsu-san, and everyone else.”

“I wanna see Tenko and Angie,” Yumeno sniffs. “If what you’re saying is true… Please.” 

The three adults exchange glances, then with a sigh Hinata relents. He shakes his head gently. “Alright.”

Saihara’s gut twists. Hinata puts a hand on his shoulder to steady him, while Koizumi rests hers on Harukawa and Yumeno’s. Souda dotes on Kiibo as the group makes their way to the exit of the room.

“I’d just like to prepare you,” Hinata says as they walk down a hallway. “You’re going to be seeing people who you thought were dead.”

“I’m not completely sure that I buy this, but… If I can see Momota again…” Harukawa’s eyes shine with an earnest, pained look. Hinata cracks a tiny smile, sadness flashing in his own gaze.

“I understand that,” he murmurs softly, half to himself.

“It’s gonna be pretty batshit crazy, though. Are you kids sure you’re ready?” Souda puts in. 

“We’ll be fine… And would you please remove your hand from my shoulder?” Kiibo says dismissively.

“Whoops, sorry.” Souda’s arm drops to his side. 

The group comes to a standstill outside of a grand door. Hinata paces forward and rests a hand against it. He inhales, and then turns to look at the younger group of students, their eyes wide.

Then he sighs. “Here we go.”

He puts his fingers at the edge of the door and pulls it open. It slides smoothly along a track with a fitting sound for the movement accompanying it, and he stands in the gap between the two rooms, detaching the students from their presumably dead friends.

“Alright guys, let’s go.”

Hinata leads them into the room as Koizumi gently nudges them forward. With his thoughts and psyche in the unstable state they were, Saihara does his best to brace himself before taking a breath and stepping into the room.

No amount of mental preparation could prepare him for what awaited him.

He’s struck silent, as if his vocal chords were ripped out of his throat. His chest feels numb, like if he tried to speak the words would get lost in the discord. Apply the phenomenon of TV static to the human body, and you’ll just about experience the feeling thrumming through Saihara’s weakened state.

There, in front of him, was everyone he had seen dead. Every limp and dead body he had investigated. Every life he saw get stolen away during an execution. Every soul that was ripped from existence.

Everyone was reanimated. They all look exhausted, their faces greyed, postures hunched, but they were _here_ , and they were _alive_. Saihara starts to shake as Harukawa immediately collapses to the ground, ugly sobs wracking her lithe frame. Saihara feels Yumeno press against him, balling the fabric of his shirt in her fists.

No one is really able to speak. Hinata side-steps them and walks over to a tired looking man with frizzy white hair and clenches his hand in his own. They exchange a few words, which Saihara can’t discern due to their whispering. The white haired man grins at Hinata and releases his hand before walking towards the door. He offers an almost haunting smile to the students as he passes by. Despite his lax demeanor, simply sharing the same air as him makes Saihara shudder.

Koizumi and Souda push them further into the room, but Saihara feels as if he’s shut down. A lone person speaks. 

“Shuichi! Maki Roll! Over here!”

His voice. Oh God, his voice. Saihara feels tears spring to his eyes, his entire body numbing like he just grazed an electrical outlet. His breath hitches as his legs move towards the source of the voice, not giving his mind a chance to object.

And not like he wanted to object anyways. 

Yumeno breaks away from them and starts sprinting towards where Chabashira and Angie are sitting. After Momota’s words, the room is in uproar with greetings and tears and shouting. Saihara’s pace quickens; Harukawa has replaced Yumeno at his side and she holds onto his arm. He’s too broken to feel any semblance of shock at the display of affection.

He hears Yumeno’s loud and distressed sobbing as she falls into Chabashira, hugging her tightly. The room is loud and animated, and all of the sounds and stimulation batter Saihara’s brain.

He collapses into Momota’s chest and Harukawa follows. Saihara wasn’t really the best with physical contact, but he didn’t care anymore. He feels the rise and fall of Momota’s chest, and the muscles beneath his shirt rippling as he laughs and wraps his arms around the two of them. Saihara starts to cry loudly, because the feeling of his best friend’s warmth enveloping his entire body makes his heart inflate and start to race, his legs trembling. Momota nuzzles into the top of his sidekicks’ heads, and Saihara doesn’t feel embarrassed about crying because Harukawa is choking out words through tears.

“K-Kaito…” Saihara manages. Momota pulls away from him slightly, but Harukawa clings to his chest. He smiles at him warmly and pats him on the shoulder.

“It’s alright, Shuichi.”

His words are simple, but it makes Saihara feel all the more better. And he truly believes, for a split second, that it will all be alright.

Except it’s not alright, because Momota and everyone in this room should be dead. But Saihara feels delirious and detached enough from reality to just… suspend his disbelief, if only not for a few more moments.

Momota grins, and then gestures behind Saihara with his free hand. The boy whirls around to find a familiar face framed by pale blonde hair.

She’s alive.

Oh my God, she’s alive.

“Akamatsu-san…” His voice quivers. How’s he supposed to react in this situation? He’s flooded with a slew of emotions so strong and raw that he lets out a sharp gasp, his legs threatening to give out beneath him. Akamatsu rubs her neck as Saihara takes another tiny step towards her.

“H-hi, Saihara-kun.” Her voice is unsteady, and just hearing it overrides all of his logic, and his mind goes blank. The quiet, upset tone fills him with an urge to protect her, to wrap her in in his arms and never let go, lest her life slip away from him again.

But he’s stiff, like cardboard. Unable to reach out and feel her soft skin or touch her silky hair. She gives him a slight, sad smile and steps to him, leaning into his chest. His heart hasn’t stopped beating hard in his chest since he entered the room, and he feels Akamatsu’s cheek fall against his own.

Her arms grip him tightly. It’s something that should’ve felt good, but instead he feels so empty, so angry that her life was stolen, that she was ripped from the world, that her demise was so untimely. He’s vibrating with rage, and all of it was directed at Shirogane. He is struck with the urge to do to her as she did with Akamatsu, and is immediately horrified that such a gruesome and barbaric thought protruded this mind. He shakes his head, like it would rid him of the intrusivities.

After they embrace, Akamatsu draws back, loosening her grip. She struggles to meet Saihara’s eyes, her own gaze blurred by saltwater tears. Her stare is focused on his shoes, and he is left looking dumbfounded at the top of her head.

“I’m sorry,” Saihara blurts out. “I’m so sorry, Akamatsu-san, I was wrong all along. You didn’t do anything!” The shaky words rush from his mouth like hot water. “You we’re innocent all along, and I- I—” Tears fall freely from his face. “I _killed_ you. That- I- it didn’t have to be this way!”

His words reverberate through the room. All of the students had fallen silent, watching the exchange between the two. Even the adults in the room- Hinata, Souda, Koizumi, and an intimidating, blue-haired muscular man who looked like he could break any of them in half through sheer thought, watched them with intrigue.

“And that brings us to the elephant in the room.” Akamatsu’s perplexed look turns from Saihara to the owner of the sentiment. Amami stands up from his chair, swaying a bit. He holds his head and rests his free hand on the table they were sitting around. “Perhaps one of you can shed light on this situation.” He narrows his eyes, looking at the group with suspicion. “Pray tell, why has Akamatsu-san been apologizing for killing me when she is not my murderer?”

“I did, though!” Akamatsu shouts in pain. “I… did…”

“No, you didn’t.” Saihara rests his hands on the girl’s shoulders. She appears so dejected and torn, still avoiding Saihara’s eyes. All eyes in the room turn to him. He’s still reeling from the situation, and not feeling confident or even ready enough to address the group. In fact, his stomach flips as he looks over faces that he saw dead, that he saw die, and that he had once spoken to as friends and comrades before they were killed. 

There’s one thing to note.

Ouma seems to be absent.

However, Saihara ignores this fact and nonetheless continues to speak. 

“Shirogane-san was the mastermind.” His words are flat. He feels so hollow, so horrible. He had trusted her. They had worked together, as not only people thrust together by coincidence, but as friends.

Was it all a lie? All for naught?

Amami snorts. “Figures.” So much disdain and scorn fills the single word. Harukawa, apparently having much less positive memories regarding Shirogane, steps away from Momota and starts speaking.

“She killed Amami and broke her own rules by executing Akamatsu. She went along with the narrative that was told by Saihara.” There’s a paucity of emotion in her voice. Saihara cringes, feeling like he’s close to asphyxiation. “She’s the one who did this to us. Made us the way we are.” Other than the blotchy redness of her tear-stained face, her stone cold demeanor doesn’t betray the lack of feeling in her words. “I wanted to kill her with my own two hands, but I didn’t get the chance.”

There are certain things that shouldn’t be said with as much nonchalance as Harukawa exuded, and that was one.

“So I was killed by Shirogane-san, and she set someone else to take the fall,” Amami laments, his gaze sparking with anger. “What a bitch,” he curses under his breath.

“Even so,” Akamatsu pipes up, still looking as agonized as she did when she was sentenced to death by Saihara. His heart squeezes. “I… I tried to kill Shirogane-san… You shouldn’t forgive me!” she screamed. “Whether I did or not is irrelevant! I still wanted to kill one of you!”

Saihara’s gut drops. “Akamatsu-san…”

“This is not a ‘lesser of the two evils’ situation, Akamatsu-san.” Swaying a little on his feet, Amami walks over to her. “One person tried to kill to save us all, and ended up dying blaming herself for a crime she didn’t even commit.” He takes her hand in his own and squeezes it tight. “Another person killed someone out of their own desperation and malice, and wasn’t satisfied, so she killed another without a care in the world. She orchestrated the entire affair, and didn’t care for anyone.” Amami’s gaze is intense, filled with an indescribable emotion. “Homicide isn’t as black and white as you think.” His eyes flicker between Akamatsu and Saihara. “So tell me, Akamatsu-san, which person do you think we’d hate more?” 

“I- I-” Akamatsu chokes through her words. “I’m sorry!” she exclaims, sobbing, as Amami drops her hand.

“I forgive you,” he murmurs warmly. “I’ve said that too many times. You must believe it at least a little by now.” He tilts his head to the side. He and Akamatsu share a look- one of hardship, of pain, of understanding, which they hold for a few heartbeats.

Until...

“Akamatsu-chan, honestly, you can’t keep languishing and living in the past. You just have to accept that you were filled with the motivation to kill, but it was for a reason that one might describe as ‘the right reason.’”

An all too familiar head of messy purple hair enters the room, adorned in a loose garment akin to a hospital gown, led by a pale-skinned man with grey and white hair.

“The Prince if Lies has… Completed his bodily examination. It seems he is indeed guaranteed further visitation in this realm a little longer.” The man casts a tentative look at Ouma. A woman with blond hair standing behind the man with the flowery way of talking puts a hand on his shoulder.

“It seems he is doing fine, physically, for now,” she translates, smiling at the man.

“Ouma,” Harukawa hisses. Ouma regards her warily. She starts to approach him, her eyes eyes flowing with hatred, back bent in an offensive position. Momota grabs her shoulder.

“Maki Roll, stop.” At his command, she freezes. Her lips are drawn in a snarl, still, and she glares murder at Ouma. 

He steps further into the room, the two adults at his side. “Thanks, Tanaka and Sonia,” Hinata says appreciatively. Tanaka gives him a curt nod. 

Ouma pauses at Saihara’s side, and he’s overcome with a sense of uneasiness. “Saihara-chan. It’s been a while since I’ve seen your beautiful and glowing face.” He smiles plaintively. “You, too, Kii-boy.” He flicks a stray strand of hair out of the robot’s face.

“Ouma-kun… It’s good to see you again.” Kiibo gives him a genuine smile. Ouma returns the grin.

“Likewise.”

Harukawa growls. “You’re just letting him walk around like that?” she demands angrily.

“Ah, you, too, Harukawa-chan. You must be delighted that I’m in your presence. I missed you~!” Ouma chirps. He dances over and takes a seat next to where Amami was and crosses his arms. Even in should-be death, the behaviour of the self-proclaimed SHSL Supreme Leader baffles Saihara to no end. 

“Are these the last ones? Where is Shirogane-chan?” Ouma asks the question like he’s asking what the weather is, like this happenstance is a completely regular occurrence. Harukawa’s face darkens.

“She was the mastermind, Ouma-kun,” Saihara discloses. The corners of his mouth turn downwards into a frown but other than that his expression doesn’t shift. 

“Really? That’s unexpected.” Then he smiles again- it’s a boorish smirk. Despite the innocent connotations behind the gesture, it’s an incredibly sinister sight to see on the boy. He twirls a strand of hair around his finger. “Though I suppose that she flew under the radar because she made herself so plain and not suspicious. That’s shitty,” he says, his jaw tightening.

His gaze flashes darkly. “Where’s the she-devil now?” His words are airy and light, but the air around the sentiment is heavy, like a blanket of tension just fell upon the students.

“She’s with Komaeda and Tsumiki,” Hinata says, lacking tact. Ouma narrows his eyes.

“We should bring her out here,” he suggests. “After all, the rest of us victims and killers died before we found out what was happening behind the scenes.”

The suggestion is met with silence. Tanaka shifts, crossing his arms.

“These fools deserve answers, and the survivors are in a state of too much delirium to shed light on the pressing matters,” he murmurs thoughtfully. “It may be… necessary to allow them an audience with that wretched witch.”

“You do have a point,” Sonia hums, putting a finger to her chin. “Do you think it is really in their best interest? As well as hers?” She exchanges a doubtful look with Tanaka. He frowns slightly.

“I am unsure… When we awoke, it was quite different. We are not granted the luxury of our own objections.” He closes his eyes, deep in thought. “Though, the mastermind was not among us, even if we had to contest with those we had… wronged.” As his eyes flicker open, he adjusts his scarf. Saihara catches his gaze falling on the blue-haired man who has chosen to remain silent. The two share a knowing smirk.

“Perhaps you are right,” Sonia adds on. “It would clear up many doubts.”

“Oh, I concur,” Ouma sings. “I have a multitude of questions for the mastermind!”

“I- I don’t want to see Shirogane…” Yumeno says. She sniffles slightly, hiding her face against Chabashira’s shirt. 

“No one cares, Yumeno-chan, I wanna see her!” Ouma says indignantly. Chabashira screws up her face and stares daggers at the short boy.

“Shut your damn mouth, degenerate, and let Yumeno-san speak,” she hisses. Yumeno wipes her face with the back of her hand.

“I trusted Shirogane. I… I thought we were friends. But she did so many horrible things to us, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.” She looks miserable, and Chabashira holds her close to her chest. Ouma grins.

“Give into your anger, Yumeno-chan. Stop trying to hide from the truth that Shirogane-chan made our lives into a living Hell!” he exclaims with vigor. Yumeno’s eyes widen. “I need to hear it straight from her mouth!” he shouts angrily, to no one in particular. 

“Um, er… Whadda you guys think?” Souda asks, looking meek. Hinata scratches his chin.

“For as much as a thorn in my side he is, Ouma-kun is right. Well, to a degree, that is,” Koizumi ponders aloud. Ouma pouts, like the comment wounded him. 

“Is that what you guys want?” Hinata questions.

A tense, uncomfortable sense of uneasiness fills the stagnant air. Saihara bites his tongue inside his mouth, feeling torn. He wanted to know why, he wanted to know _how,_ he wanted to know how the characters that she cosplayed sprung to life in front of him. He wanted to know what the hell happened to all of them, and why he was standing among the dead. Though, he’d honestly be content without seeing her smarmy, deceiving face ever again.

He’s still half-unconvinced that he isn’t experiencing a dream. He feels another bout of dizziness strike him, and he sways heavily on his feet.

“I want to know what would drive a person to do something like that.” _‘That’_ is a very helpful umbrella term used to describe everything he was far too tired to.

“Oooo, Saihara-chan is on my side.” Ouma looks at Hinata. “So, what say you, big guy?”

There’s a lingering air of uncertainty, but he obliges with a pensive look. “I suppose…” His eyebrows knit, and this doesn’t appear to be the best outcome for him, either. Saihara wants to just curl up and disappear himself.

“Fantastic,” Harukawa mutters sarcastically. “I’d like her to get her just desserts.” She tenses, and Momota grips her shoulders firmly.

“We are not going to kill Shirogane,” he says sternly. Harukawa clenches her jaw so tightly that Saihara is unsure as to how she manages to not chip her teeth through the sheer force.

“Yeah… I just want to know why,” Akamatsu murmurs. Ouma perks up.

“Oh, Akamatsu-chan, how your morals have changed,” he muses. Akamatsu’s shoulders shake.

“Ouma-kun, shut up! That’s _enough_!” The volume of his own voice shocks Saihara as the words erupt from his mouth without a filter. Ouma’s eyes widen- whether it’s in surprise or amusement, it’s hard to say.

“Jeez, Saihara-chan, chill. It’s a joke,” Ouma defends himself.

“No one’s laughing,” Harukawa says, her voice oddly high-pitched, like she’s holding herself back.

“It’s alright,” Akamatsu says quietly.

“No, I apologize, Akamatsu-chan.” Ouma leans forward in his chair slightly, then winces. His eyes flutter shut for a brief moment. “That was out of line.” He smiles lightly. “I see myself in you, Akamatsu-chan. Our goals weren’t so different after all.”

Akamatsu exhales. “Is this what he was always like?” she asks Saihara. He nods stiffly.

“Yeah.” 

Hinata crosses the room with a sigh. “I’ll… I’ll go get Komaeda.” He leaves through the doorway, head in his hands. Ouma leans back to his original position, his smile wiped off his face like a machine that just got shut down.

“What a shitshow,” he mumbles, sounding pained.

“Now that that’s over with, shall we welcome back our new friends?” Angie suddenly speaks. She stretches her arms out wide, as if expecting someone to fall into her lap. “Himiko, Shuichi, Maki, it feels as if it has been ages since Angie has seen you!”

“Uh, same,” Saihara replies. Yumeno smiles at the girl.

“Hey, Angie, learn to read the mood,” Ouma bites back.

“Oh, Kokichi,” Angie chuckles softly. “I have been reading the air since before you were born. I am but a visitor in this world.”

“Disconcerting, but whatevs,” Ouma dismisses her. The group livens up with chatter once more, but there are undertones of worry and distrust surrounding them. Saihara looks back at Akamatsu, and is surprised to see her eyes level with his.

“I always believed in you,” Akamatsu said. “You did your best, and arrived at the conclusion that the evidence pointed to.”

“I _killed_ you, Akamatsu-san,” Saihara responds simply.

Akamatsu sighs deeply and shakes her head. “I literally cannot even begin to describe all of the ways you’re wrong,” she murmurs airily. “Although, I should be the one who is apologizing. I used you… And I-I betrayed your tr-trust…” She begins to falter again.

“Don’t say that, Akamatsu-san. Don’t start apologizing when I thought I would never be able to see you again,” Saihara tells her, his heart thumping in his chest. “I’m just… So happy to see your face,” he adds, not even caring if that sounded creepy.

Akamatsu smiles, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s seen in a long time. His heart flutters like a bird is trapped in his chest. “But, I really am sorry, Saihara-kun. But that’s all I’ll say. I’m really happy to see you again.” 

“What a nice reunion.” Grinning, Momota approaches the two of them. He ruffles Saihara’s hair playfully, and Akamatsu’s eyes light up.

“Oh, and by the way,” she starts shyly. “You do look more handsome with your hat off.”

Momota snickers as Saihara looks back at her in awe.

“We’re back.”

Hinata and the white-haired one- Komaeda, Saihara gleans, step into the room. The chatter dies on everyone’s lips and a thick band of tension weaves itself around all of the students, pulling them in tightly, causing them to suffocate.

Komaeda pockets his hands. “It’s like ripping off a bandaid, Hinata-kun,” he tells him. Hinata’s lips flatten as he nods solemnly. Komaeda tentatively reaches out and touches Hinata on the arm. “They must be faced with unpleasant things to overcome it.”

“...If you mention the words ‘hope’ or ‘despair’ I will kick your ass,” Hinata murmurs as he cracks a small grin. Komaeda smiles wanly.

“Well, I wouldn’t want that, now would I?” the man muses.

“Hey? Cut it with the banter and show us the mastermind,” Ouma says impatiently. He taps his fingers on the table.

“Whatever you say.” Komaeda steps away from the door and Hinata thrusts another person into the room.

_There she is._

Her hair is pulled into a bun, and she looks exhausted. Her posture is droopy, and her eyes are downcast, and devoid of light. They don’t look like when they did during the last trial- now they just look dead. Empty. They were once only filled with the desire to live in a fictional world, but they’ve become so hollow.

She looks pathetic.

Hatred courses through Saihara’s veins like blood. He didn’t even know he was able to harbour so much anger and disdain and aversion towards one person, but here he was. He shakes with rage, but before he has a chance to scream it, Amami steps forward, cool as ice.

“Hello, Shirogane-san. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you not bashing anyone’s head in with a shot put ball.” Shirogane scrunches up her face, an indescribable aura permeating from her. The anger and scorn in Amami’s voice is clear as day. 

“You have some explaining to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this!! i had too much fun writing it and if it's a bit ooc i'm sure you get why, it is a pretty abnormal sitch after all. but mostly i wrote this for funsies, it doesn't have much or any basis in canon really. i wanted the sdr2 crew to meet the v3 one a lot  
> you're welcome for the cliffhanger of sorts :)  
> there's prolly a lot of mistakes and missed emphasis (italics, i have to go in and add all of em manually when i copy and paste from docs) so just ignore that and have fun with this absurd circumstance


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